


Yearn

by Chromophilic_Daydream



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, One Sided Attraction, Post LSW, Pre Memory of Red, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:11:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromophilic_Daydream/pseuds/Chromophilic_Daydream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His chest ached, like he had burnt more than just his skin, like whatever weaknesses he had felt develop inside him were burnt too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yearn

**Author's Note:**

> A late night ficlet because I've been craving some angst. Enjoy.

Soft, heated gasps filled the stagnate air of the Scepter 4 dorm he was to be staying from now on. It was a cold room due to the obvious draft of autumn current that leaked through the walls to mix with dust from this previous unoccupied space. That wasn't what he was currently choking on as he tried desperately to swallow sounds that were threatening to spill past his dry lips.

His chest ached, like he had burnt more than just his skin, like whatever weaknesses he had felt develop inside him were burnt too. His comfort, his trust, his world were as vulnerable and exposed as the sizzled marked flesh over his beating heart. He was broken and defeated, useless. He heard it in his head, echoing over and over with every sharp breath he took in, with every frantic jerk of his wrist. Broken, defeated, useless. The whispered words that once sounded so much like that guy's voice had slowly become his own over the last two years. 

The confidence, the sheer will to topple this fucking society he, they, lived in built a calloused wall of defense to push those painful thoughts far away from him. However, the life he built inside of those walls crumbled into nothingness just days ago when Misaki's eyes confirmed everything he feared would happen actually did. He was all those things and more. He was a traitor to absolutely everything he had struggled to become. He put forth his best efforts but in the end, he was just like that guy. He couldn't believe how he lied to himself, how he let himself be ensnared by the poetry of friendship that life had tried to sell to him. That Misaki tried show him. A bunch of lies that he couldn't help being intoxicated by, fascinated by.

Misaki. The biggest lie of them all.

Those eyes that were focused solely on him for the first time in months had burnt holes into his memory. It was fresh and painful and raw. The intensity behind those light eyes as he realized just what was going on. Not that he wanted it to go like this, not that he wanted to watch Misaki's world burn as he himself did. Some little piece of him, in that moment, wanted to latch onto the other boy and never let go.

How disgusting that he became so reliant on someone. All he needed was himself. That's how it always was before Misaki came along. That's how it always should have been. Misaki was just a fleeting moment and the part of him that grabbed onto him was weak.

Fushimi killed that part of him that day in the ally. He suffocated it, stuffed the remains in a corner of himself that he planned to never revisit. Never planned but he felt it fester into another doubt. It nagged at him even still with every painful jerk of his palm on the reddening skin of his swollen cock. Misaki. That gaze that shot straight through him left scars deeper than the ones he inflicted himself that day. It was exhilarating, intoxicating in a completely different way then the lullaby of friendship had been. He saw how easy those lies were broken when they joined Homra. Things would be so vastly different from now on.

He bit his lip to keep himself quiet from the very thought of those eyes. The hateful, hurt look of utter disbelief traveled straight from his stomach to the slightly slicked member in his restless hand as he sped up the pace. It hurt, the friction hurt so badly that the pleasure was almost completely overridden by the pain. He wanted it though, this ache to become more concrete, more real, which is why he tightened his grip. This would make Misaki hate him more right? If he knew? Would he be sickened? Would he have rejected him instantly if he knew back then that his best friends had feelings for him? The thought of it made his stomach queasy and he let out a soft moan that he then muffled with his arm.

This wasn't the first time he had done to himself, though usually out of necessity of his hormones. This wasn't the first time he had thought of Misaki while doing it either. Usually it had been when the other was asleep soundly in the bunk beneath him. It scared him back then. It terrified him that he might mess up what they had together because of feelings like this.

But that wasn't the case anymore. The underneath of this new bunk bed was empty and it always would be empty. Everything was already messed up from the day they joined Homra... From the day they actually met. There would never be anyone to share his space with anymore. Now he could be as loud as he wanted and let his mind be consumed without feeling badly about it. They were nothing to each other anymore. Or so he told himself. So it shouldn't matter. But it did matter, it mattered how little it bothered him. Shame was eating him from the inside out and he reveled in it now, celebrated it with every stroke and every gasp that his body produced. 

The coldness of the wall clashed with the heat of his skin in those fleeting moments when his mind went blank, his thoughts stumbling back not to the look of agony on Misaki's face but the smile that won his heart slowly, ever so slowly. He felt himself growing close to climax and cursed himself for the image of his best friend he conjured. That smile that was not just for him now, but for everyone, for anyone who impressed him. That smile was once his. That world was once his and now...

He gasped loudly as he came suddenly, his breathing labored as he felt his body slump down and his hand stilled. He shivered as exhaustion washed over him and the shame began to settle in. He swallowed hard and grabbed a few tissue he kept beside him. Wordlessly, soundlessly he cleaned himself up and threw them into the trash beside his new dusty desk. 

That small part of Fushimi Saruhiko that he tried desperately to murder cried that night. He'd get used to this feeling. He cursed himself and wiped stubborn tears away from his cold cheeks and laid down to let a dreamless world consume him. A world that didn't contain Misaki any longer.

He'd get used to it soon enough.


End file.
